Eyes Like Mine
by SoundedSummer
Summary: The Family Reconstruction Act finds another family member for the Dursley's. Only problem is, he's not. Trowa Barton is sent in to infiltrate Grunning's Drills, but finds more than he's sure he can handle.
1. Prologue

**An old, very old story that I had posted as SlytherinMafia years ago. It was originally a prompt from Deb on the Slytherin's Collective Yahoo group, so I cannot claim that I came up with the idea. I'm not sure this will be continued past what I have already written (if I can find them on this external harddrive I found while moving) but I will give it my best shot. Cross-posted at AO3.**

**Summery-The Family Reconstruction Act finds another family member for the Dursley's. Only problem is, he's not. Trowa Barton is sent in to infiltrate Grunning's Drills, but finds more than he's sure he can handle. **

**Pairings: Unknown at time of posting.**

**Rating: T to M**

**Disclaimer-I own nothing.**

Prologue

"Its not here' Trowa spoke into his ear piece as he snuck down the stairs of number four Privet Drive, his feet not making a sound as he moved.

Not that it would matter if he did make noise, the drugs he'd slipped into the family's food hours earlier had taken care of that threat.

But still, old habits died hard.

"Have you looked every where?" Quatre's voice came over the line into his ear, and Trowa snorted softly. Ever the tactician, the blond always had to make sure that no stone was left unturned, and that nothing vital to a missions success was compromised, even when he knew his fellow pilots were just as cautious.

"No Quat, I haven't. I think I may have left some dust bunnies undisturbed." Trowa quipped as he came to the bottom of the stairs and looked around. He had already gone through the living and dining rooms twice a piece, there was no where that the elder Mr. Dursley could have hidden the documents he was looking for that would not have been found already, but the kitchen was just as lacking in hiding points.

But still. He headed down the hallway towards the eerily spotless kitchen, Quatre still talking softly in his ear as he tried to think of places that the papers may have been hidden away.

Trowa was really beginning to miss the War Days. Back then, they would have just gone in, blown Grunnings up, and gone about their business. No more Plant, no more Mobile Doll parts, problem solved..

Of course, now a days they had to do things legally and by the book. So here he was, creeping through a dark house looking for documents that may or may not have been shredded by now.

Lots of fun. He began running his hands over the walls, trying to find a hidden catch or something, even though he had already done this once before and there had been nothing.

Except the cupboard under the stairs. Trowa blinked as an idea occurred to him.

Wouldn't that be a perfect place to hide something you didn't want found? Most people overlooked a cleaning closet as nothing more than storage space, even he had and he was a trained Gundam Pilot, places like that were supposed to be the first place he looked.

Odd, but he pushed that to the back of his mind.

"Quat, I may have it, if you'd shut up for a minute" The blond screeched in his ear, and Trowa couldn't help but laugh lowly. It was so much fun to pick at the younger pilot, especially when Heero wasn't around to defend his lover for the slightest hangnail. Trowa pulled out his lock picks and knelt down on the ground, frowning as he saw the multiple locks and heavy duty padlock that sealed the cupboard shut.

Hmmm, the papers had to be behind here. What else would the Dursley's have to hide that required that much security?

He worked the locks lose one by one, the image of crawling into bed next to his boyfriend for the first time in weeks at the front of his mind, and finally set the last one to the side.

He was almost out of here. If it wasn't behind here, he was giving up and calling it a failure. They could send Heero in next. There would be a higher body count that way, but they would have the answers they needed. He ignored the mental sound of the Ethics agents screaming as he tugged open the door to the small space.

The inside of the cupboard was pitch black, light from the hallway not even illuminating it, and Trowa felt around until the chain for an overhead light came on his fingers.

He gave it a tug and light lit up the space.

Trowa felt his blood run cold at what Vernon and Petunia had been hiding.

Not papers that linked the head of household to Mobile Dolls, no, that would have been infinitely better than what Trowa found.

No, the cupboard held the small, very small, form of a child.

A child that was staring at him out of green eyes exactly like his.


	2. Chapter One

**And Here's chapter One. This was not edited for content, I just fixed a few grammar mistakes and spelling errors that stood out the most. If you notice any more, please let me know.**

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows for this old story. I didn't think it would be popular as old as it is.**

**Disclaimer-I still own nothing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One-Behind Door Number One<strong>

"Trowa? Trowa what is it?" Quatre's voice was nearing frantic in his ear, but Trowa couldn't find it in him to respond, he just kept staring at the occupant of the small cupboard under the stairs. The little boy stared quietly back, looking at him out of the innocent green eyes. He couldn't be more than three or four, the age of the Dursleys' whale of a son, Dudley. There were plenty of bedrooms in the home, even excluding the one that he had taken up for the duration of his stay.

So what was he doing locked in the small space?

"Trowa, answer me! Have you found it?" Trowa blinked as the blonde's voice penetrated his shock and he pulled his focus away from the kid for a few precious seconds.

Seconds in which the little boy acted. As soon as Trowa's attention faltered for a second, the boy reached out and tugged the door to his 'room' closed with a snap, leaving Trowa blinking.

What the hell was going on in this house?

"03, status!" Heero's voice barked over the link, and Trowa winced. Looked like Quatre had gotten tired of his lack of response and decided to pull in reinforcements. He could ignore Quatre for a decent amount of time, but to ignore Heero...Trowa didn't have a death wish.

"The mission has gained...complications." He phrased it as delicately as he could as he sank back onto his heels and studied the door in front of him. Complications was an understatement.

"Explain." Heero's voice held a warning note and Trowa sighed. Great, the Wing pilot was in one of his moods...for lack of a better word. The fact that the Heavyarms pilot had been aggravating Heero's boyfriend, had nothing to do with he was sure.

Yeah, and Pigs flew on a daily basis.

"I found a likely hiding spot for the target, and when I investigated, I found the complication." How to explain that the complication was a little boy? Maybe the subtle/blunt way would be the best. "He seems to be about four."

There was a few seconds of silence.

"He?" Quatre's voice was confused, and Trowa didn't blame him. "The complication is a he?" Trowa sighed.

"Yes. A child, male, about four years old. He was locked into the cleaning cupboard beneath the subjects stairs."

Silence reigned over the radio again. But not for long.

"There's only one child in the Dursley Home. Surely they wouldn't lock up their own child?!" Quatre's voice raised on the last word, causing feedback to race into his ear and Trowa yanked the earpiece out with a quiet curse.

A muffled gasp came from behind the door, and the child's voice came through softly.

"Bad word. Aun' Tueny was mouth out!" The boy's voice was childish and stern, and Trowa crawled closer to the door so he could hear it better, slipping his ear piece back in as he did so, pointedly ignoring the rant that was going on the other end.

"Negative. Dudley Dursley sleeps in bedroom number three. This is an unknown member of the household." He could hear the quiet tapping ho Heero's computer, and the mutters that were coming from the Japanese pilot's mouth as he tried to find the information they shouldn't have missed the first time around.

The member of surveillance who had watched the house before the mission were going to be on the receiving end of Heero's wrath, or his gun, by the time this was all over.

"Have you gotten a name?" Quatre's voice held an undercurrent the Heavyarms pilot didn't like, and a shudder ran through him. Heero may be blatantly homicidal but Quatre was insane when pushed over the edge and none of the pilots wanted to see that again. ZERO was a force to be reckoned with.

"Not yet, the child is talking though." Barely, but talking was still talking.

"Get a name, 04. Primary directive of the mission has changed for the time being. The child may have the answer that we need, or may be the way to get them." Trowa nodded, seeing where the other pilot's thought were going.

If you couldn't' find evidence of one crime, evidence of another was just as good.

They just had to get the kid to talk.

"Understood." He sighed and leaned forwards to knock lightly on the door to the cupboard. He refrained from pulling it open again. The boy's quick closing of the door as soon as a chance was available made him assume that the boy was not used to being noticed. They needed him to cooperate, so keeping him comfortable was priority.

"Go 'way." Trowa raised an eyebrow as the boys voice reached him.

"I just want to talk, child. Can you tell me your name?" Trowa was reminded of the fact, that even though he worked in the circus, he was no good with children. At all. This was Duo, or Wufei's purview, kids were generally freaked out by how quiet he was.

That and the fact that he couldn't remember ever being a child himself.

There was a silence for a second from the other side of the door.

"Boy. Now Go 'Way." Things just kept getting worse and worse. Boy was not a name, and Trowa told him as such.

"Boy Is not a name child. What do Vernon and Petunia call you?" Trowa refused to call the couple Aunt and Uncle. Not only were they not his family, they were two of the worst people that the pilot had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

And that was saying a lot.

There was silence from the cupboard for a few precious seconds, Trowa straining to listen to both the little boy and for signs that the tranqs had worn off.

It was unlikely, but it was the last thing that he needed at the moment.

"Freak?"The boy was even less sure of his name this time, and Trowa found himself seeing red. How could a child not know his name? True, he hadn't known his while he grew up, but that was because the Mercs hadn't wanted to replace the name his parents had given him, in case he did regain his memory. The pilot sighed and sat back on his heels.

"01?" Trowa spoke softly into the mike, he didn't want the prisoner of a boy to hear more than he probably already had.

"Hnn" Heero answered his call almost immediately, slipping back into the monosyllables that he had used during the war.

"When we investigated the Dursleys the first time around, was there any indication of a family member that was around four or five? A cousin perhaps?" Heero snorted in disgust that Trowa thought he missed something, but the other pilot could hear keys clacking as he typed away. It only took a moment for the pieces to begin to fall into place

"Petunia Dursley's Sister, the sister who is your 'mother', did have a biological son, Harry James Potter. He is listed as missing, presumed deceased, so we did not take him into consideration when crafting your cover story. She has not taken any lengths to find him." Heero sounded surprised at how big of a hole they had left in their preparation.

"Could this be him?" Trowa nearly jumped at Quatre's voice. The blond had been quiet since Heero came on the line, and Trowa almost forgot that he had been part of the conversation at first.

"Unknown. The child..." Trowa was cut off as a door slammed open at the top of the stairs, and the lights on the staircase popped on. Vernon Dursley's footsteps could be heard pounding from his room and Trowa shot to his feet, moving rapidly into the shadows and sinking back as the eldest Dursley shuffled past towards the kitchen, slamming a meaty hand onto the cupboard as he passed it. Trowa saw red, but could do nothing at that moment.

He still had to complete his mission.

He moved out of the shadows as soon as Dursley's back was turned on him, pressing a gentle hand to the cupboard door as he did so. He knew it did nothing, but he felt better for it.

As he moved quickly up the stairs, he had only one thought.

Next time he was going to triple those tranqs!


	3. Chapter Two

**AN-This is the last chapter that was written years back. I went through and tried to make things more plausible, but there are several plot holes that will be shored up in the next few chapters. Thank you for everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this, I had no idea something this old would have this much interest.**

**Disclaimer-I still own nothing.**

Trowa watched the family carefully the next morning at breakfast, eating his rather bland toast and eggs.

Why was the little boy under the stairs? He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the family was obviously well to do, with enough money to both provide for the family and have the little extras that make suburban living bearable.

Now, they weren't Quatre rich, by any means, but then again no one really was, but they had more than enough.

So why did they feel the need to force a child to live in darkness?

"How's the food, Triton?" His 'Aunt' simpered at him from her side of the breakfast table, an obviously faked smile on her face as she feigned interest in him.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. The only reason that she was even acting like she cared was because they were being paid heavily to take care of him. They hadn't even questioned his obviously being too old to be the child of Lily and James Potter.

Vernon snorted from across the table.

"Its bland Petunia, the boy.." He trailed off and eyed Trowa, obviously about to let something slip and deciding against it. "The boy just doesn't want to hurt your feelings, do you son?" Vernon gave a hearty laugh, like any father would his son, but Trowa had to hide his smirk from the obviously faked jovality.

So there was a secret behind the nephew, something that they didn't want him to know.

Only the obvious? Or was it something else, something they thought would get them in more trouble? Or Both? There were so many variables in this situation that Trowa honestly didn't know which one it was, and that was a new situation for the spy. He normally could pick out how the situation was going to go, he had to in order to be the spy he was, but he had to admit that this family really threw his senses off.

"Of course Uncle Vernon." He went back to his toast, and finished it quietly, waiting for the time when Vernon would go to work, Dudley would go to Kindergarten, and Petunia would get together with the rest of the neighborhood gossips for sherry and cookies until their families came home for the day.

He may have only been here for two weeks, but the schedule never varied. It was the same thing day in and day out, except for the weekends when he had to deal with Vernon's vile presence until he passed out in his bed late at night.

Trowa wanted out of this house, now.

But to do that, he had to either A) find the documents he was after, or B) get the little boy to crack enough to work what was going on in this house out of him.

Neither option looked very promising at the moment.

"Well, Pet" Vernon put down his fork and pushed his seat back from the table, the chairs legs scraping heavily against the floor with a screeching sound akin to nails on a chalkboard. Trowa supposed it was the weight of the obese pig of a man, and felt vaguely sorry for the floor.

Or would have it wasn't an inanimate object. Feeling sorry for inanimate objects was an easy way to get a trip to see the Preventers Psychologists and yourself put on desk duty until you stopped talking to your gun like it was your best friend.

At least, that's what happened to that ONE guy, but he was always an odd duck.

He realized his brain was going off on a tangent, and veered it back on track, tuning back into the conversation going on between Husband and wife, just in time to catch the whispered, almost too soft to hear for a normal human, words.

"Make sure the boy does his chores this time, he was sloppy yesterday." Petunia nodded, a frown on her face, until she noticed Trowa looking, and pasted a smile on her face.

"Of course Vernon. You have a good day at work" She walked him to the door, and turned back to look at her son and 'nephew'.

"Triton, look after Dudley for a few seconds, please dear?" Trowa nodded, a calculating look coming onto his face, and he turned to study the obese, and rather dumb, five year old that still sat stuffing his face in the seat next to Trowa.

This might be his chance to find out what was going on.

Quick as a flash, he reached out and grabbed the plate from the five year old, feeling like a bully, but knowing that it had to be done. The child loved food, so food was the best way to get answers.

He answered correctly, and he got the food back, he didn't, and the plate landed on the floor. Trowa might have to listen to Petunia's scolding for it, but there was no help for it.

Dudley immediately started crying when the plate was pulled away from him, but Trowa didn't have time to listen to it.

"Shut up." He used his deadliest voice, a voice he'd used on OZ soldiers just before he'd killed them in a variety of violent ways, and the boy stopped crying, staring at his 'cousin' with wide eyes. "Are you listening?" The boy nodded.

Good. Maybe he was smarter than he seemed. That would work in Trowa's favor.

"Who is the boy under the stairs?" Dudley's eyes widened and he looked at Trowa like he'd just spoken a different language.

"No boy." Dudley was vehement. Trowa narrowed his eyes. So even Dudley knew. That was interesting. The family had gone to extreme lengths to hide the boys existence from the rest of the world.

But he would find out. He picked up a piece of jam covered toast in two fingers from the plate in his left hand and held it up vertically over the floor, studying the boy with serious eyes.

"Who is the boy Dudley?" Dudley shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued to the toast in his 'cousin's' hand. Trowa shrugged and let go, watching the toast fall to the floor and land jelly side down. "Who is the boy?" Dudley eyed the plate and Trowa's hand before he said anything.

Even at five, he was clearly seeing the threat to his food, and weighing that against disobeying his parents. As Trowa's fingers twitched back towards the plate, at the same time keeping his ears peeled for any sign that Petunia was heading back in from saying goodbye to Vernon, and gossiping with any of the neighbors who were within hearing range, Dudley made up his mind and blurted it out.

"He's like yous!" Trowa raised an eyebrow.

"Explain." Dudley eyed the plate again, and began talking frantically. Definitely smarter than Trowa had originally thought.

"He's my cousin! He ain't got no parents though, Mum and Daddy had to takes him in. He freak." Trowa sat the plate down slowly, and pushed it back towards the five year old, who fell on it like he hadn't eaten in weeks, eying Trowa as he shoveled food into his porky mouth.

Trowa was disgusted by the display, but he had the information he needed.

He knew, without a doubt, that the boy under the stairs was Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, and by his cover story, his little brother. Dudley maybe smarter than you would think, but he was by no means intelligent. An intelligent child would have made the connection between the two.

This may throw a kink in the plans.

He leaned back in the chair just in time for Petunia to come in the door, clicking across in the floor in her heels and smiling at Dudley.

'Well Dudders, time for school!" Dudley, who'd finished his food and now had crumbs and jam smeared across his face almost like the pig he resembled, nodded and reached his hands out to his mother, who picked him with a grunt of effort.

Trowa found it hard to believe that a woman Petunia's size, could pick up a child Dudley's size, without straining something. The look on her face told him that it wasn't easy.

The pilot thought that he'd gotten away with the torture he'd just put the child through, when Dudley eyed him almost evilly and looked at his mother with a glint in his eye.

"Mummy, how 'riton find out about Freak?" Petunia froze, the blood leaving her face and leaving drained off all color. She ignored her son, sitting him down rather carelessly in the chair his father had recently vacated, and turning slowly to look at her 'nephew'. Her voice shook when she spoke.

"How, how do you know about him?" He scrambled for an answer, one that wouldn't give him away or get the child in trouble.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aunt Petunia, what boy?" She shook her head.

"Don't lie to me! How do you know about him?!" Her voice was rising, and she was showing a side of herself that he'd never seen before.

He had to answer, she wasn't going to handle another lie well, but he couldn't tell her the truth. If she knew he'd opened the closet, then she would know he was snooping.

And that could ruin everything.

So he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I got a glass of water last night and he was in the kitchen." He kept his voice expressionless, though his gut was turning with the trouble that he may be getting the little boy with his eyes in, "He spooked when he saw me, ran into the cupboard and closed the door." She eyed him, snorting.

"There's a lock on the door, how'd he get out?" He almost winced.

Damn, how could he not have thought of that? It was a rookie mistake. A rookie mistake that, again, could ruin everything.

He was beginning to think that he was out of practice.

"There was no lock on the door when I went by it, Aunt Petunia, I have no idea how he got out. What's wrong with him?" He went the unconcerned route. If she thought he honestly didn't care about a child living under the stairs, then she may let more slip than she meant to.

A dark look passed over her face when he spoke, and she sent a sharp glare towards the cupboard door, nearly growling, before she got herself together and smiled at him, ruffling his hair in a motion that he had to force himself to allow.

"He's a nobody, Triton, just a freak. Don't let him bother you." She stepped away from him, with that fake smile still plastered to her face. She seemed relieved that he wasn't concerned, but anger still seethed under the surface, and Trowa had no doubt that he was going to find out even more about this situation as that anger bubbled.

He only hoped that it worked in his favor.

"Triton, could you do me a favor?" He nodded. "Could you take Dudley to school for me? I forgot about an appointment that I have to keep." He nodded again, and stood up to clear the dishes as she walked Dudley to the sink and washed his hands and face quickly, and more roughly, than he usually saw her do.

Two minutes later, he was out the door and on his way to Surrey Primary school. He made the walk quickly, all but dragging Dudley behind him.

He had to get back to that house. He had the feeling that something was about to happen, something important, and if he missed his one chance to find out what was going on because of this brat, he may not be able to stop himself from doing something he wasn't going to regret.

He made it to the school and back in almost record time, making it in less than twenty minutes when it usually took Petunia forty. Of course, gossiping did probably take up time, but still. It wasn't that far of a walk, and Dudley could use all the exercise that he could get. Trowa walked up the door and was about to push it open, when noises reached his ears from through the thick wood, and he pressed his ear to the door to hear it better.

"You worthless freak! How dare you use your FREAKISHNESS in my HOUSE!" Each word was emphasised by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Trowa felt rage bubbling under the surface.

She was hitting a child.

Because he'd thought a child wasn't vindictive enough to risk his anger.

This was his fault.

He was about to kick the door in and show the witch of a woman why he was one of the scarier pilots, when his brain kicked in.

He'd ruin the mission, and never have time to find what he had to find, if he went in there without thinking.

He would have to let this continue, until he had what he came for, and then he could put an end to it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before digging his keys out of his pocket and trying to fit one into the lock.

He knew it was the wrong one, but he hoped the sound would let Petunia know that she wasn't alone anymore.

He may not be able to stop it completely, and as physically as he wanted, but he was going to stop it for the moment.

He finally put the right key in the lock, despite the fact that it wasn't locked to begin with, and pushed the door open, making sure to make noises, and when he came into view of the hallway, Petunia was composed and absently straightening the picture that must have been disturbed while she administered her own brand of discipline on her nephew.

She caught Trowa staring and smiled.

"Thank you Triton, dear. Now, I'm off to bridge with the girls, please let me know if he gets out again?" She seemed to think that the two of them shared a secret now, and gave him a wink as he nodded silently. "Okay then. Well, I'll be back around three. Enjoy yourself!" She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she walked towards the door, straightening out her clothes, and he waited until she left to wipe it off with a disgusted look. He looked at the cupboard across from him, sorrow filling him, and leaned closer to it.

He could hear the whimpers of pain coming from the other side, and he wanted nothing more than to open that door and take the boy away from everything, help make up for not coming to his rescue like the cop he was, but he couldn't risk it. He had to be even more careful now that she knew he knew about Harry. She wouldn't buy the thought that the little boy had gotten out of a multi lock cupboard for long.

So he settled for sitting a hand against the wood of the door and whispering quietly.

"I'm sorry."

Before walking away and heading up the stairs to make his report.


End file.
